Once Upon An Ozian Night
by Amorisa
Summary: A double eclipse approaches, and the celebrations begin! On a night made for lovers, the moons and the Maze watch our story unfold, as two little princesses take their destinies into their own hands. This is an A.U. fic based off a very classic story.
1. Chapter One: A Finaquan Prelude

**Title**: _Once Upon An Ozian Night_  
**Characters**: Cain, DG, Azkadellia, Glitch, The Mystic Man, Raw, Jeb, Queen Lavender, and Ahamo (phew!)  
**Pairing**: Primary C/DG  
**Rating**: eventual "M" (probably more NC-17)  
**Summary**: A double eclipse approaches, and the celebrations begin! On a night made for lovers, the moons and the Maze watch our story unfold, as two little princess take their destinies into their own hands. (This is an A.U. fic based off a very classic story.)

**Author's Note**: I couldn't help myself, the damn plot bunny snuck in and bit me hard. I have **not** abandoned "Until The Fall"... this is AU-crack, and just for fun!

* * *

**Once Upon An Ozian Night**

**Chapter One: A Finaquan Prelude**

There was an air of festivity about the Lakeside palace as the staff and residents prepared for an event of unprecedented amplitude. Maids and stewards rushed this way and that, bumping into each other and apologizing with rueful grins, unable to contain the excitement that permeated through every soul in the palace.

In her office, Queen Lavender stood with the balcony doors wide open, greeting the light of the twin suns that bore down on her, their warmth a welcome gift after days of rain. The air, though still damp and crisp, carried the promise of beautiful weather for the celebrations, and the Queen gave up a silent prayer of thanks.

A double eclipse. Such a monumental celestial happening only occurred once every five hundred annuals. In merely four days, the skies would darken at mid-afternoon, the suns hiding behind the moon. Thousands across the Zone would be bowing in reverence, and once the suns returned, light-hearted revelry would wane into an occasion unlikely seen before in the country. The royal family had taken to their summer estate, escaping the drunken affair most Central City districts were promising.

But even the royal family had reason to celebrate. Their most trusted friends would be joining them shortly to commence the celebration.

The door to the office opened behind her, but Lavender did not turn. Only two people in the palace would enter her private space without knocking, and both were welcome. When heavy hands placed gently upon her shoulders, she turned her head to greet her husband with a smile.

"Darling," she said. He placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Taking a break, Lav?"

"Just a small one."

"Well, come join me in the foyer," Ahamo said, reaching for his wife's hand. "The old man and his entourage have arrived."

Lavender smiled brightly at her husband's dismissive tone, when it was _she_ that sometimes disapproved of their dearest friend's flash and tawdry showiness. A man of great importance, and her most trusted ally, was but an entertainer at heart. Earlier annuals had seen him on the floor, on his hands and knees, with her youngest daughter riding him as a horse. She often wondered where his life might have carried him had his 'great and terrible' office not kept him on the straight and narrow.

"Where are the girls?" Lavender asked, as she took her husband's proffered arm, and together they made their way down to the front hall. The endearment for her daughters fell from her lips easily, though her eldest daughter was nearing twenty-six. It was easy, however, to think of her daughters as still 'girls', as when they were together, the youngest was always getting her older sister into trouble – even now, as the young women they'd become.

"They'll meet us downstairs," Ahamo replied.

In the grand, gilded entryway of Finaqua, a small group was gathering, waiting to welcome their most honoured guest. The Queen and Ahamo were greeting those already waiting when a loud voice could be heard from the upstairs landing.

"I'll replace it, I promise!"

Azkadellia was the first to descend the stairs, walking demurely, her chin tilted down. Though her face was impassive, there was a definite red tinge to the tops of her cheeks. "I'd rather not discuss it, Deeg," she said evenly.

DG began to run down the stairs after her sister, and her mother frowned to see the young princess wearing slacks instead of a dress. The blouse she wore couldn't really classify as a _blouse_ at all, looking more like a work-shirt from one of the palace uniforms. As she came closer, however, the Queen was further dismayed to see the collar and front splattered, albeit minimally, with bright blue paint.

_Sometimes she acts as if she were born and raised on a farm, _the Queen thought, unhappily.

"But it was an _accident_!" DG moaned.

"What happened?" Ahamo asked his daughters, amused, as they joined the congregating group at the bottom of the stairs. Lavender was quite sure he'd refrained from tacking on _'this time'_ to the end of his sentence.

"I'd rather not discuss it," Azkadellia said, a little more firmly, as she came to stand beside her mother in her proper place as heir apparent. DG was frowning when she came to rest at her sister's left elbow.

A pair of stewards opened the massive front doors, filling the room with the light of the suns. The clean smell of the lake came rushing in, and the Queen breathed a sigh.

"Tell us," she said, and turned her namesake eyes on her daughters, her lips pressed in a disciplined line. So like her, both daughters mirroring her in pale complexion and deep chestnut hair, though her own was beginning to turn silver at her temples. Azkadellia's eyes were a soft, expressive hazel, while DG's were an alert, honest blue – neither had inherited her vividly lavender eyes.

Azkadellia kept her lips pursed, so DG gave a resigned sigh, looking at her feet as she spoke. "I might have... _accidentally_ banished one of her finches."

Ahamo burst out laughing just as voices could be heard over the sound of feet pounding up the marble steps. Their guest, the Mystic Man of Central City, but more familiarly known to the royals by his given name, crossed the threshold, accompanied by an escort of two Tin Men, and a handful of assistants and servants.

"Lavender!" he boomed out with a jovial smile, reaching out his hands as soon as he saw her. Walking forward, she let him take her hands, and he kissed them both as she beamed affectionately at him.

"Hello, Astor," she said warmly, taking in the sight of him. He wore no jacket and his sleeves were rolled up, his vest unbuttoned and wide open. His bald pate shone in the bright sunslight. "I hope your journey was not too difficult."

The old Mystic Man waved his hand dismissively at her. "Oh, nothing that caused us too much stress. Nearly lost one of my men coming through the Maze, but she let him go without much trouble." He nodded back towards one of his stewards, who looked distinctly dishevelled, with a few small green leaves still caught in his hair.

"Well, you must tell me all –" But the Queen stopped short when a figure came ambling into view, travel coat brushing about his knees as he mounted the steps, the wide brim of his hat hiding his eyes and most of his face. An unhappy frown settled on her lips as she turned her gaze, now hard, back to her guest.

"I thought I'd made it quite clear," she hissed firmly, dropping her tone so low that the Mystic Man had to lean forward to hear her. She yanked her hands back away from him, resisting the urge to cross her arms angrily over her chest, or to curl her small hands into fists. Instead, her hands hung limply at her side, brushing the soft material of her dress.

The old man cleared his throat nervously, looking back at the man that came through the doors. The late arrival took the hat off his head, his blonde hair shining in the suns before he sidestepped into his place in the shadows with his counterparts. "Yes, well," Astor said slowly, "he was quite insistent."

The Queen's frown deepened. "Of course he was," she said. Stepping back, she turned to her husband. "_Well_," she said a bit louder, though she sounded slightly out of breath.

Her mother out of the way, DG took her turn to greet their guest, flying at him to jump and wrap her arms around his neck with a laugh. With a grunt, the Mystic Man caught her and embraced her tightly. But as she pulled away, it was plain to both the old man and her mother who her eyes were on, as she tore them away from the shadowed corner and returned to her place beside her sister, a brilliant smile on her lips. DG had never had much luck trying to hide her emotions.

Lavender turned to her guest, giving him a very serious look. "Will you join me in private, Astor? There is much to discuss about the upcoming celebrations."

The Mystic Man gave a friendly smile, casting a glance towards the youngest princess before turning back to the Queen. Yes, there was going to be _much_ to discuss.

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***

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The youngest princess of the O.Z. sat perched on the arm of an expensively upholstered settee in one of the out of the way guest parlours. Her feet swung a few inches above the floor as she stared out the open window. Or at least, one who watched her might _think_ she was looking out the window. It would be hard to believe that she watched the lacy, yellow curtains that hung over the window, the fringes of them brushing the floor. She watched in silence as the curtains fluttered slightly in the barely existent breeze.

She was counting, and she'd gotten to twenty-five. She'd only ever gotten as high as thirty-two that she could remember.

_Twenty-six... twenty-seven..._

The curtains suddenly gave a shudder and danced as the air currents in the room shifted; the door at the opposite end had been opened. Trying to hide the smile that was taking over her entire face, DG kept her hands at her sides, clinging to the armrest of the settee on which she sat, her feet continuing to dangle listlessly.

"You were supposed to be here two days ago," she said to the person who'd entered the room.

The deep, warm voice that returned was familiar. "The old man had trouble findin' someone to come with him."

"_You _ were supposed to come with him," she replied, not turning around. She heard the door shut softly, and then the sound of his boots hitting the hardwood as he crossed the room.

"Well, he found it necessary to ask every other one of his Tin Men first." His fingers swept steadily up her back as he reached her, though the contact was minimal, coming to rest at the top of her spine, exposed because her hair was tied up into a ponytail. She forced herself from letting her head fall back to look at him. "But for some reason, they all said 'no'."

The grin she'd been fighting finally broke. "For 'some reason', eh? I wonder why."

She could hear it in his voice, that rare half-smile. "I wonder." His thumb reached up to the base of her neck, past the blue-speckled collar of her smock, brushing heavily on bare flesh. It was then that she let her head fall back, to find him looking down upon her, as she hummed happily at the sight of him.

"Two weeks is too damn long, Mister Cain!" she told him firmly, looking up into his blue eyes.

Cain smirked. "You should quit that 'mister' talk," he said, "or people might get the idea I'm a mite older than you."

She smiled up at him. He teased her incessantly about her youth, often referring to her as 'Kiddo', though it was a nickname that had endured from the annuals they'd known each other. Working under the Mystic Man, he'd spent more than enough time at the Central Palace. A widower with a son only a few annuals younger than she, Cain was stoic and reserved, and she'd taken an interest in befriending him when she'd realized that he was the only one of the Mystic Man's guards that never seemed to smile. To laugh and joke was a near requirement to work for the old man, and her curiosity got the better of her when it came to the quiet Tin Man with the sharp blue eyes.

It wasn't to say Cain wasn't without humour, she'd learned fast enough. She'd been thirteen when they'd met, and sixteen by the time she'd worked up the courage to single him out; the first time she'd ever seen his lips crack their firmly set line, he'd called her 'Kiddo'. So perhaps it was true that she didn't mind the nickname, although it wouldn't do for him to ever know that.

His mood now seemed playful, which was rare. Most of their time together was spent with him brooding thoughtfully over her as she tried to get a rise out of him, but time alone was also very hard to come by. Their relationship, a tumble that had taken them mutually by surprise, had to be kept secret, at his insistence. She, personally, didn't care. She _liked_ to cause a stir around the palace, it made things exciting when life within the city walls was so dreadfully dull. But, Cain wanted what went on between them behind closed doors – which was barely anything to write home about anyway, damn man and his honour – simply because he was a man of little to no standing, and she was a Princess of the Realm.

It wasn't that it was a big deal. After all, her own mother had married an Other Sider. There was nothing she'd ever do in her life to cause a scandal bigger than that one – though she'd thought about how she might try.

DG hopped off the armrest, moving toward the window and away from his teasing fingertips. The window faced the shaded side of the palace, and the breeze that moved the curtains ever so lightly was chill. Resting her palms flat on the wide windowsill, she waited for him to approach her, as he almost always inevitably did.

"How is Jeb?" she asked.

"Jeb's doin' fine enough," Cain said absently, though she didn't hear him take a step. "Pretended to be sore about bein' left in the city for the Eclipse, but I imagine he'll be findin' ways to keep himself busy."

"And out of trouble," DG added, knowing how completely unlikely that was. Cain's son was a hell-raiser, and someone she wanted to meet desperately, as he might teach her a few tricks. Cain seemed bent on keeping them apart, and it seemed merely for the influence that the princess and his rebellious son might become on each other.

Cain gave a low chuckle. "And out of trouble," he repeated.

Minutes passed, ticking away slowly as she watched the tall grass near the lake shore bend and wave. A frown was just beginning to settle on her lips, wondering if he'd ever come over and say hello to her properly, when she heard his footsteps echoing dully behind her. _One, two, three_, she counted, until he'd reached her.

Cain replaced his hand on her back, sliding up until his big fingers cradled her slender neck. She turned then, creating a shelter in his arms that always seemed to pull her in. She felt the heat of his gaze on every inch of her face as he studied her, drinking her in since he hadn't seen her in a fortnight. She wanted to wilt under the intensity of his eyes, to bury her nose in the cool leather of the vest he wore underneath his worn, old duster. But instead, she bore his gaze, her eyes studying the familiar lines and creases in his coat, not daring to look up at him for the knowledge that his eyes would surely burn her.

"If I didn't know any better, Mister Cain," she murmured pointedly, "I'd think that you've been missing me."

"That'd be an understatement, Sweetheart," he replied, his free hand coming up to cup her jaw, to tilt her head upwards and force her to look at him. When their eyes met, she felt a something akin to an electric shock, one that ran from the middle of her chest down to her abdomen and lower, hot and thick and flowing.

She'd been yearning for his touch for quite some time now, but his restraint was to be commended – by someone other than her, she was sure. If his hand would settle on her waist, her stomach would knot and the muscles of her abdomen would jump and ripple with apprehension. If his hand left her waist and slid around to the small of her back, pressing her close, her breathing would hitch and catch. These were rare occurrences, for he was hesitant to lay a hand on her, citing virtue and honour and other nonsense.

Watching him now, alone with him after separation, after weeks of thinking of him daily, driven to such a point of distraction that she hadn't been able to recall Azkadellia's little green finch, DG felt impatient and brave, a dangerous combination in any situation.

The princess placed her palms flat on the Tin Man's chest, running her small hands upwards over the smooth leather vest. She watched the progress of her hands, avoiding the blue eyes that she could still feel burning holes into her soul. Biting her lip, she reached his shoulders, and in one quick movement, curled her fingers around the collar of his shirt and jerked him down towards her.

The kiss was bruising and demanding. A muffled grunt of surprise escaped him as she pressed her lips to his, but soon he returned the kiss with equal vigour, wrapping his arms around her waist and gathering her to him, trapping her between his body and the window. The illicit thrill of his tongue sweeping along hers sent another jolt of electricity straight to her core, igniting parts of her that only seemed to come awake when he used his tongue in those clever ways.

"Wyatt," she moaned when he pulled away, the use of his given name a plea for continuance, a sign of her submission. She wanted him, and despite her lack of practical application in that particular area, she _knew_ what she wanted. Him, _all_ of him. To lave her tongue along his Adam's apple, to run her fingers through the crisp blonde curls she knew lay hidden under the rows of buttons down his chest. To have him press into her, make her his in the truest sense of the word, although she already was his. She had been his since he'd joined the Mystic Man's protection force, though neither of them had known it until the day she'd cornered him and asked him _"Why don't you smile more, Mister Cain?"_

"Princess," he said firmly, pulling her in closer and pressing a soft kiss into her hair. His breathing was uneven against her temple; she'd unhinged him, and that made her feel powerful. She wanted to know just how hard and fast she could make his breathing become.

"Kiss me," she demanded breathlessly. Still holding him by the collar, she gave him the slightest shake. Cain looked down at her, jaw set and teeth clenched; calculating, always calm and rational thinking. She sighed, the smallest hint of a growl at the back of her throat, as she reached up on tiptoes and placed a kiss on his beautifully angled jaw. The sigh that escaped him was long and heavy, before he leaned down and kissed her heatedly, his tongue plunging into her mouth and seeking dominance over hers. It was a dance that he had taught her, and he'd been her only partner. She had vowed upon their first kiss, stolen in a shadowed corner, that he would ever be the only one.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself as close as possible so that she might vie for the upper hand in their passionate interlude. The kiss was hurried, a little messy, wet and hot and perfect until suddenly she was moaning into his mouth and he was trying to pull away, to disentangle himself from her embrace.

"Enough, Deeg," he whispered softly to her. "We're gonna get caught like this."

A voice cut through the air then, and a throat was cleared as the two secret lovers spun around to face the open doorway. "You're damn right you're gonna get caught!"

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**Author's Note II:** See, bunny bite. *shows the mark* Leave me a review (and possibly some bandages!) to tell me if you like the new story! This is gonna be my "relief" story while working on the Big Damn Epic... check that one (okay, and its prequel) out, too, if you haven't. *promotes self shamelessly*


	2. Chapter Two: Set The Stage

**Chapter Two: Set the Stage**

"Lavender, you misjudge the man! I trust him with my life," the Mystic Man said as he closed the doors of the Queen's office behind him. The room was open, airy, and filled with the light of the suns, the windows facing the East to catch the last of it as the twin orbs began their descent towards the horizon.

"I do not question the man's bravery or honour," Lavender said quickly, knowing how protective the man was over his trusted escorts; in all fairness, what she said was true. Wyatt Cain's service record was beyond compare, and his commendations were many. She sighed. "We only question his suitability."

"And his age," the Mystic Man said under his breath, but the Queen's keen ears caught his breathy retort. Surprisingly, she smiled at her friend.

"Astor, my daughter requires a suitor more fitting to her station," she said, "and yes, if you must make me say it, someone a _little_ closer to her own age. He's old enough to be her father."

"It would have made him a _very _young father," The Mystic Man snorted good-naturedly as he circled the room slowly, perusing the books that lined the shelves throughout the room. He wondered what might make a man suitable despite his station – to do nothing less than something foolishly heroic, no doubt!

The old man had come prepared for this conversation, as it had become clear to him that a certain Tin Man would be making sure he'd be the one joining the old man on his journey South to Finaqua for the Eclipse celebrations.

But something about the Queen's tone bothered him. It came to him as he made his full circle about the room. "You sound as if you've already chosen a man for your daughter," the Mystic Man said, turning his eyes onto the woman that stood by the window, arms wrapped around her frail frame.

"My husband and I have been discussing it, yes," the Queen muttered, so softly that the Mystic Man wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

"A husband for your youngest daughter?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "But you _hate_ arranged marriages – until today I would have thought you didn't believe in them."

A gentle, understanding smile played at the lips of the monarch. "I _do_ hate them, with fierce passion, old friend. But I worry about DG. If she truly has fallen in love for the first time, she's going to be blind to what is best for her."

The Mystic Man sighed, watching the Queen carefully as she turned her back on him to face the window and the marshy fields below and beyond. He remembered well, annuals before, when Lavender was but a princess herself, most desperately in love with a man beneath her station, a match that had been adamantly refused by her own parents. The young man had been banished from the kingdom, and it was only his own intervention now that had saved Wyatt Cain that same fate. The only reason Lavender had been able to marry the Slipper, Ahamo, was that both her parents were dead by that time, and she'd been able to make her _own _choice. He knew his dear Lavender meant well. In her heart, she held the best interests of her daughters.

Now, the Mystic Man stood firmly in Cain's corner, and would help him any way he could. Cain had lost his wife nearly nine annuals prior, and the unlikely friendship that had been struck between the detached Tin Man and the flighty younger princess had blossomed into something deeper – with more than a little of the Mystic Man's own encouragement, of course. If it hadn't been for the old man's gentle elbow nudging into Cain's ribs, the man might never have cracked a smile and let the princess in past his unfeeling exterior.

"Wyatt Cain intends to ask for her hand," the Mystic Man told the Queen, quite firmly. "He's already spoken to me about it."

The Queen turned around quickly with a gasp at the old man's revelation. "Has he?" she demanded.

The Mystic Man nodded solemnly.

After a moment of staring, Lavender breathed a very heavy sigh. "Well then, Astor, it is most fortunate that DG's hand is not yours to give."

There was a soft knock upon the door then, and it opened immediately after to reveal a familiar face. Pale and thin, Ambrose, the Queen's trusted advisor, came into the room, a stack of documents in one hand. He swept his free hand nervously over his impeccably groomed hair, frowning slightly as he bowed for to the Queen, and then again to the Mystic Man.

"You requested to see me, Your Majesty?" he asked quietly as he shut the doors behind him.

"Yes, Ambrose," Lavender said, as she smiled at the advisor. "We only wait for the Prince Consort to return. There is much he and I would like to discuss with you."

Ambrose nodded. "Yes, of course." He took a seat near the door, bouncing a knee nervously as he thumbed through the documents he'd brought with him.

The Mystic Man watched the young advisor for a moment, before walking determinedly toward the Queen. He touched her elbow lightly. _"Him,_ then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to fight down a smile as Lavender nodded an affirmation. The smile threatened again, but he swallowed it as he tried to imagine the feisty young princess running circles around the stuffy advisor. He cleared his throat, and looked hard at Lavender. "I've heard tell that Azkadellia has developed feelings for this man, through her informal royal training."

Lavender looked away. "And where might you have heard that, Astor?"

The Mystic Man snorted, finally unable to push away his smile. It broke across his face with a full show of teeth. "A little paint-splattered bird might have told me." It was a half-truth... DG _had_ told him, but the entire palace staff, and most of the royal court, knew of Azkadellia's high thoughts of the advisor.

The Queen was just rolling her eyes as the door burst open to reveal her husband, pulling DG firmly by the arm. The young princess looked livid, her cheeks flaring bright red. Lavender looked from her daughter to her husband, curious, until a third person came walking slowly behind, one arm swinging casually, the other set to rest near the holster on his belt. Frowning as the situation became quite clear, the monarch straightened her spine and settled her jaw firmly.

"What is going on?" the Mystic Man asked, breaking the silence that followed the three newcomers, as Cain shut the office doors. He stood with his back against the wood, blocking anyone from entering or leaving, trapping them all inside with each other.

"This kid needs a babysitter," Ahamo said as he released DG's arm. His earlier happy mood had disappeared, as he looked upon his daughter with disappointment. DG, to her credit, was holding her composure quite well, though the blush in her cheeks had yet to fade, and there was a definite tremble to her lower lip, like a child caught a in misdeed.

"I'm not a _kid,"_ was her only response to her father.

"What happened?" the Queen asked, repeating her friend's earlier query. She looked from the angry girl to the equally angry father, to the Tin Man standing by the door, his head down and his eyes on the floor.

"They were caught," the Mystic Man said, trying once again to hide his smile, as he saved both lovers the embarrassment of having to answer. He knew his guard, and he knew the man's honour, and he had no worry that anything the two were caught doing was anything more than a stolen kiss, perhaps a small slip of the hand over innocuous areas. In fact, he worried more about the impetuous princess's curiosity than he did the Tin Man's hold on his self-restraint.

"_Well_," Lavender said, breathing hard. "This is exactly what we were trying to avoid. It seems we've no other choice than to deal with this matter now." Her husband joined her by the window, standing slightly behind, and his eyes drifted to the view outside. She frowned. _Coward,_ she thought, before turning to DG and the Mystic Man, who were watching her expectantly.

"We're not dealing with anything," DG said stubbornly.

"Yes, we are," her mother said absolutely. "I have tried to find a quiet way to put an end to this _indulgence_ of yours, my Angel, but you, and not only you, it seems –" Here she paused to turn her lavender eyes from her daughter, to the Tin Man by the door who had the good sense to shift uncomfortably, "– Are quite adamant about flaunting your disobedience. So your father and I have decided to put an end to it ourselves."

DG's eyes widened. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder to Cain, but his eyes remained on the floor, and not a word did he speak. "What do you mean, put an end to it yourselves?" the young woman asked her mother.

Lavender shook her head at her daughter. "I wish there was another way, Dearest. Ambrose, would you please stand?"

The advisor set the papers he held down on the seat he vacated as he brought himself to his feet. The gangly man stood a few bare inches shorter than the Tin Man guarding the door. Ambrose cleared his throat, running his hands anxiously over his legs. "Your Majesty?"

"We offer you our daughter's hand, do you accept?"

A heavy silence fell over the room then, as Ambrose fell into shocked speechlessness at the Queen's wholly unexpected offer. Moments later, the quiet was broken as DG exclaimed, very loudly, "_What_?"

"DG, darling," her mother said softly, but DG stopped her before she could continue.

"You can keep your 'darling', Mother! I'm not marrying Ambrose! Besides, he's the –" But she stopped herself short, not wanting to betray her sister's trust and reveal Azkadellia's secret in front of the man concerned.

Ahamo spoke up from behind his wife. "You will do as you are ordered by your Queen, DG. Remember your place," he said.

The Mystic Man watched the scene with sad eyes, as he could see, almost physically, the bonds of family and love breaking in the room as words were spoken. Bridges burned so fast that the room was nothing but a flurry of spark and ash.

DG's blue eyes darted from her father to her mother, and then to the Mystic Man. Tears began to threaten, one gossamer droplet spilling onto an eyelash. "Ambrose is a noble man, possessing great genius," the Queen said.

The advisor had the modesty to blush and stammer. "Majesties, please. I do not think –"

The Queen held up a hand and immediately, Ambrose fell silent, displaying obedience the young princess had never quite mastered, control over his spirit while hers always seemed to run wild. "DG," the Queen said, a break in her voice showing raw emotion at the difficult words she uttered. "You will remember that to refuse a royal command is death."

DG shook her head. "This morning you were talking about stopping my piano lessons because you said it sounds like a cat walking on the damn thing when I play, and now you're threatening me with _death?"_

The Mystic Man interjected quickly, as he watched the situation deteriorate, and a family break apart in a matter of minutes, and over such a complicated reason as a forbidden love. How foolish of the Queen to forget her own whirlwind courtship with her husband! "You are very much like your mother, DG," he said, quite pointedly, but he could not deny one fact, though it pained him greatly to say. "Your parents choose a worthy man for you."

DG's lip stopped trembling as her jaw set stubbornly. "Wyatt is a worthy man, too." Another longing glance was cast over her shoulder. The Tin Man's head came up at the mention of his name, and his eyes caught those of the princess. The Mystic Man frowned, that something begun so innocently and with such good intention would end as messily as this.

Lavender made to speak, but the Mystic Man held up a hand to stop her, giving her a meaningful look. The Queen, without argument, stood back and held her tongue.

"Her Majesty does not deny that Mister Cain is a good man," the Mystic Man said quickly, "but he is not who they would choose for you."

"What right does she have to choose for me at all?" DG demanded, though she knew the question stupid. Her mother was a queen, everything was in her power, every right was hers, and every choice hers to make... within her lands. That one thought set DG's mind reeling to work. She looked up, distracted. "Will you really condemn me to die if I don't marry Ambrose, Mother?" she asked, turning her pleading blue eyes upon Lavender.

The Queen took a moment to respond. "You might join a cloister, Darling," she said softly, "and become a priestess of Lurline. Consider that, DG. To live life never laughing, never speaking unless in prayer. To live as a virgin, never marry and never have children."

"If I die, I'll die the same way!" DG retorted harshly, though her cheeks blushed furiously. "I'd rather die than marry someone I don't love." Perhaps the tiniest exaggeration, but it drove her point home. She wondered if her mother would truly put her to death, or order her to a cloister. She refused to look back at Cain again, though a part of her was certain she was drowning in her own hard-headedness.

The Mystic Man cleared his throat, reading the panicked look in the young princess's eyes. "Why don't we give her some time to think on it?" he suggested gently to Lavender. "Give her until the Eclipse. The event will help her put her life into some perspective. Surely," he said, training his eyes hard on DG as she looked back at him thankfully, "she doesn't want to make any rash decisions."

"Please, Your Highness," Ambrose said softly, his dark eyes trained on DG. She liked Ambrose, but she'd never given him much thought; he was quiet and boring, and his talk of inventions always made her feel too stupid. Azkadellia could sit for hours and listen to him, watch him as he drew diagrams of his various whatchamacallits, but DG always got bored and wandered away in search of something more exciting. Looking at Ambrose now, she wondered how in the world her mother had ever thought a man like this would make her happy.

Ambrose's continuing speech cut into her thoughts. "Don't throw your life away, or your youth," he told her, dark eyes too serious. "Consider your mother's offer."

"You have the Queen's love," Wyatt Cain said to Ambrose, the first words out of his mouth since he'd entered the room, spoken so low that the Queen and Consort, standing by the window, did not hear him. "Just leave it to me to worry about DG."

"That's all you're going to say?" DG demanded, turning around to face Cain, her blue eyes flashing.

Cain cleared his throat, and looked down to his feet once again. "Anythin' else I've got to say would wind us both up at the gallows, Princess."

DG sighed, and turned to Ambrose. "And what about Azkadellia?" she asked harshly, that simple sentence encompassing what most in the room knew about the torch the elder princess carried for the brainy advisor, who now only blushed, and kept his mouth shut.

The Mystic Man stood, his hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold between the three individuals with whom this meeting concerned. Though Cain was the silent type, the old man was getting the impression that the Tin Man was biting his tongue. Sighing, he decided it would be a good time to finish this, before DG was in tears or lashing out enough at the advisor to bring _him_ to tears.

"Your Majesty," he said calmly, "and Master Ambrose. There are still many things to discuss about the Eclipse celebration, as that was the pretence under which I was brought to this meeting." He turned a twinkling, teasing eye on the Queen. "Please. Let's get these arrangements out of the way, and allow DG her time to think. The Eclipse is fast approaching."

* * *

***

* * *

The cries of the youngest princess carried on the wind out over the lake. A breeze had picked up as the suns sank lower, and it was beginning to grow chilly out in the gazebo. Her arms wrapped around herself, she leaned against one of the beautifully-wrought green pillars, emptying her heart of her frustration and fear.

Wyatt Cain stood behind her, next to the swing, watching her shoulders shake. He'd known this day would come, had known as certainly as his own name since the first day he'd realized the girl had wriggled her way into his heart. He'd spoken to the old man about his intentions to ask the Queen and Consort for the girl's hand, but it seemed some sort of fate had cut in, unravelling his cautious, slow-moving plans.

"Ya know," he said evenly, before pausing and giving her time to calm her crying. When she turned her blue eyes on him to listen to what he had to say, he continued. "The priest that married my wife and I told us that the course of love never did run all that smooth."

DG rolled her eyes at him, but said nothing.

"Social standin', age," he said carefully, making sure to keep her eyes trained on him. "War or sickness. There's always gonna be somethin' to cause the path to be rocky. Trouble is _always_ close behind, Princess. I lost my wife, but somehow I was lucky enough for love to find me again."

DG bit her lip to stop herself from interrupting him with her pessimism. It was a very rare occurrence that Wyatt Cain put more than five words together at once, and never in all the time that he'd known her had he spoken to her about his deceased wife. But when she realized he'd finished speaking, she pulled herself to standing and went to him, damn whoever could see them from the palace. She buried herself in his arms, and after a moment of hesitation, his arms circled her and settled about her waist, resting his cheek against her temple.

"Wyatt?" she asked him softly, looking up after a few moments of quiet embrace. His head angled down, the brim of his hat shielding his face, but from her place against his shoulder, she could see directly up into his blue eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Those cool blue eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talkin' about, DG?"

Her shoulders fell, but she tried to keep her courage. "I'm talking about getting _married_. You and me! We could go to Central City and someone there could marry us. She can't make us get a divorce once we're married, and if they're terribly angry, we could go hide out on the Other Side until they cool down."

"That's a foolhardy plan," he said, but even though he kept his tone steady, she could hear him considering her offer.

She beamed up at him, her tears forgotten. "Its a fantastic plan," she countered. "We could leave tomorrow night, before the moons start to rise. We could be in Central City before they noticed us missing in the morning." She began to grow excited. "Please, Wyatt?"

The Tin Man looked down at the princess in his arms, giving her a small smile. "You sure about this?"

DG nodded enthusiastically, never more sure of anything in her life.

Cain gave a resigned sigh before he nodded. The movement was slight, but the affirmation was so much more to her, and her heart was near stopping with her happiness. "Meet me at the edge of the Maze come nightfall," Wyatt said. "We'll ride for Central City, and get married. I'm not slippin' over to the Other Side, though, not with Jeb still here. We'll have find some other place to hide if it comes to it."

When she leaned up on her toes to kiss him, however, he pulled away, muttering into her ear. "Here comes your sister." He stepped away from her quickly, and she turned to see Azkadellia coming through the long grass, holding her skirt up to keep it from dragging on the ground.

"Az! You look lovely," DG said, trying to distract her sister from the embrace she had just been sharing with Cain.

"Save your praise, Deeg," Az said with a defeated sigh. She mounted the two steps to the gazebo, ignoring Cain when he stepped forward with an offer to help her. "You've succeeded in driving the Eclipse from everyone's mind. They're all gossiping about a wedding. Is it true? Did they really offer you to Ambrose?"

"Um, yeah," DG said, frowning at her sister's bad mood. "Are you all right, Az?"

"No, I'm not all right!" Azkadellia flared. "You can't marry Ambrose."

DG snorted. "Believe me, I've got no intention of doing so."

"How is it _that_ possible when, _without intention_, you've still succeeded in getting everything you want?" Azkadellia demanded.

With a shake of her head, DG stared at her sister. Was she hearing this right? "How can you think this is what I want, Az? You of all people should know this would _never_ be what I wanted. Ambrose is so dull, I couldn't imagine anyone wanting him for a husband." She regretted the words the moment they spilled out, and she bit her lip at Azkadellia's hurt expression. "Listen," she said, trying to recover, "I love Ambrose dearly. He is a good friend, and they aren't lying when they say he's the smartest man in the O.Z. I just... Az, no." She shook her head again, trying to affirm this fact to her sister. "Ambrose doesn't want to marry me any more than I want to marry him!"

"Truth enough," the Tin Man spoke up, and he nearly winced when Azkadellia's harsh, dark eyes landed on him.

DG turned to Cain. "Will you please leave me alone with my sister?" she asked, and he nodded stiffly, understanding her need to make herself clear to her sister, to keep from losing the one person left in her family that might truly matter. The sisters stood in silence as they watched Wyatt Cain walk back towards the palace, never looking back.

"Azkadee," DG whispered, reaching for her sister's hand when the elder sister's expression dropped. The endearment had its intended effect, Azkadellia took her sister's hand and the two women embraced. "I'm leaving tomorrow night," DG told her sister, her words soft and low, muffled by the mass of dark hair over Az's shoulder. "Cain and I are going to run to Central City and get married."

Azkadellia jerked away from her sister, looking skeptical. "DG, you can't do that."

DG laughed. "Oh? Watch me! I'm tired of this, the rules and protocol. This is the last straw, Az! They can tell me what to wear and what not to do, but they can't tell me who I can be with. Maybe I just wasn't meant to be a princess," she finished lamely.

Az chewed on her full bottom lip, streaking the colour that had been painted there. "Are you sure he's the one you want to marry, DG? If you do this, he'll lose is position with the Tin Men, and that's just to start! They could banish you. They could have you executed!"

DG smiled. "Yes, they _could_ have me executed, but the question is _will_ they?"

"You're calling her bluff!" Azkadellia laughed, amazed at her sister's brazenness.

"Someone has to," DG said with a mischievous grin. "Two or three weeks at the most, she'll come to her senses. It might not make her happy, but I think she's being an idiot, especially considering her husband came from _Nebraska._" The last word dropped to a reverent whisper, the name of that strange, unknown place. "And even if it takes longer, once the first baby comes, she'll come around. No one can resist a baby."

Azkadellia raised an eyebrow. "Baby? You don't like kids."

DG shrugged. "Sometimes a person comes along in your life that just... changes your mind about some things." She gave her sister another hug before stepping back and jumping down off the platform into the grass. "I have to go back to the house and get some things organized. Remember, please keep this a secret. By tomorrow night, we'll be gone and you won't have to worry about any of it." DG was grinning when she turned away from her sister and raced through the grass towards the palace, forgetting the millions of times she'd been told that princesses shouldn't run.

Azkadellia plopped down into the swing gracelessly, waiting until she saw her sister skip up the palace steps in the distance before she let the first of her tears fall. Holding them back had taken all of her strength, and now that her crying had begun, she worried she might not be able to stand on her own feet, the salt of her tears draining everything inside of her away.

It was a shock, and a stupid one at that. To offer DG's hand to Ambrose, simply to stop her from marrying an older man. Ambrose was still ten annuals DG's senior, so the logic of the Queen and Consort didn't make that much sense. The match, on a more personal level, made no sense, either. Ambrose was bookish, sensible. He didn't much like to laugh, but when he did, his smile spread across his face, lighting up his serious, dark eyes...

_Stop it, you stupid fool,_ she scolded herself.

She wondered why Ambrose had _never_ noticed the way she looked at him. The way her cheeks would bloom with colour when he said her name. How she would tremble when their fingers brushed in the passing back and forth of books and papers. He had taken her royal training in hand, had helped her so much in the past few annuals. Ambrose sat with her, every evening, studying past history or current events or the world abroad. He was her best friend just as much as he was her mother's most trusted advisor.

Azkadellia was ready to scream. DG's plan to run away and marry would certainly stop her from becoming engaged to Ambrose, but at the same time... she couldn't let her sister throw away her family and station like that. It might be that such things didn't matter to DG, but as blinded by love as the girl was, perhaps she wasn't seeing things as clearly as she thought she was.

The Tin Man was another matter. If he was agreeing to such things... Wyatt Cain wasn't exactly the type to act rashly or make stupid mistakes. One could tell, just by looking at him...

Azkadellia didn't know what to do. She was torn... and she knew only one person that could help her figure it out... the smartest man in the O.Z.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I didn't get very many guesses on which "classic story" I'm retelling. Do you have any thoughts, now that the plot is set in motion? I'd love to hear if you do! Oh, I'm most evil! So is my bunny, he's destroying my house!


	3. Chapter Three: Plans In Motion

**Author's Note**: Congratulations to all those who made correct guesses! I am blessed with incredibly smart readers. You're **all** the best.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Plans in Motion**

_The next day..._

Jeb Cain vowed he would learn to keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself.

The lovely girl he'd met had taken him by the hand and led him into the supply room behind her father's store. Half-undressed, they'd been caught, and trying to talk himself out of it hadn't done any good. And, as it turned out, it hadn't done any good to try and hide from any of her four older brothers, either.

Jeb needed to get out of the city for a while, so he packed a bag, procured a horse, and headed south for Finaqua.

It was almost time for the first sun to go down when he finally arrived at the fork in the Brick Route that continued on to Finaqua. Stopping to rest his horse, Jeb dug his canteen out of his saddle bag and had a long drink. It would soon be getting dark, and he was far enough south of the gorge that other travellers had become scarce, so that when he began to hear the soft pat of footsteps on the road coming towards him, he looked up curiously.

Around the bend he'd just cleared came a timid Viewer. Jeb felt a surge of relief, as he wasn't prepared to deal with trouble, and a Viewer was _never_ trouble. "Hello there!" he called out before the man had come much closer, announcing his presence so as not to scare his fellow traveller. The Viewer looked up, initially frightened, but quite relaxed when he saw the boy was no threat, himself. The Viewer nodded in greeting, and came to a rest near Jeb, leaning against a tree and offering a kind smile, but no words.

Jeb took the initiative. "Where you headed?"

"Lost," the Viewer grumbled.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Jeb said. "Well, this is the road that leads to the royal palace at Finaqua." He nodded in the direction he was about to go. There was silence again, as the Viewer looked about at the dusk settling quickly around the forest, and Jeb shifted uncomfortably, before offering the canteen to his new companion, who took it with a smile of thanks. As their fingers brushed in the passing of the object, the Viewer jolted slightly, and then gave Jeb a wider smile, showing his sharp teeth.

"Boy runs from trouble," he said with a strange, low chuckle; he took a swig from the canteen.

Jeb cleared his throat uncomfortably, remembering the four brothers out for his hide. "Yeah, well... its not 'Boy'. The name's Jeb," he said. When the Viewer passed the canteen back, Jeb took it by the strap, making sure not to touch the Viewer's gloved hand again. "What about you? What's your name?"

The Viewer took a moment to look around. Picking up a stick, he used the tip of it to write three letters in the dirt beside the brick road. Jeb turned his head to read them, and then smiled. "Raw, huh?" His companion nodded. "Well, Raw, I'm heading to Finaqua for the night. You're more than welcome to join me. I'll probably be camping out by the stables. Its not far, and you can get directions and start back on the road in the morning."

Raw studied the young boy for a moment, and then gave a reserved nod. "Yes. Raw will follow boy."

Jeb frowned.

* * *

***

* * *

Supper at Finaqua that night was a quiet, quiet affair. No one seemed to want to speak to any other. Though the Queen tried to make life as normal as possible, DG seemed to have no words for her, and Azkadellia's normally reserved manner seemed even more withdrawn. The Mystic Man tried to keep up conversation, but all he received from the princesses were one-worded responses, or just mere weak smiles. Finally, the talk at the table dwindled down to the same news out of Central City that had been discussed the night before.

The moment she was excused, DG set off at a full run towards her room, her slippers clicking mercilessly on the floor, dress swishing about her ankles. Soon, all others got up from the table, and the Mystic Man excused himself. His intention was to have a private conversation with Wyatt Cain, and to find out what kind of plan the Tin Man was formulating – after all, he knew enough of Cain to know the man wouldn't sit by and do _nothing. _The two men had walked alone that afternoon, but the Mystic Man had not asked any questions, and the reserved Tin Man had offered no information.

In the hallway outside of the dining room, he watched as the Queen and her consort made their way up the stairs towards their private chambers. Sighing, and wondering to himself how his old friends could be so blind to their daughters, he was startled to hear, very suddenly, the frustrated voice of Azkadellia. Ducking very fast into an alcove, the only place to hide, the Mystic Man keened his ears to the conversation on which he was now officially intruding upon.

"Ambrose, I must speak to you," she said as she came into view; slipping further into the shadows, he listened. "There is something I must tell you and I'm not quite sure how, exactly..." The Mystic Man had never heard the elder princess sound so ill-composed.

"We could meet tomorrow, Your Highness," the advisor said, still out of the Mystic Man's view, and sounding quite harried. "There are reports out of Central City that I must go through before handing them to the Queen."

Azkadellia's face set into a mask of determination, resembling very much her younger sister. "Tomorrow will be too late, Ambrose!" she exclaimed loudly, worriedly, and instantaneously she clapped a hand over her mouth at her over-voiced revelation.

"Too late, Highness? I don't understand."

Azkadellia sighed, and her shoulders fell. "I don't quite know how to say," she said fretfully, and clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers tangling with each other nervously. "Its about DG. I think she's about to make a terrible mistake."

"What do you mean?" Ambrose asked, his voice concerned. The Mystic Man wanted to shift, to see the advisor's face, but doing so would reveal his position, and he'd already heard too much of this conversation meant to be private to do so now.

The princess looked around to make sure no one was listening, and guiltily, the old man slunk further into the shadows that hid him. "She plans on eloping with the Tin Man," Azkadellia said softly, after assuming there was no one but Ambrose to hear her. "They're leaving tonight for Central City."

Ambrose gave a gasp. "But if they're caught..."

The Mystic Man watched Azkadellia nod sadly, putting aside his surprise at her revelation of the elopement to keep his attention on the princess. "We need to talk her out of this. They are meeting in the Maze... if we could just get her to listen to us, then maybe there's a chance we could stop them!"

The Mystic Man shook his head at the princess's naivety. The more he heard, the unhappier he became. Though her concern for her sister was genuine, she spoke to the advisor only out of her blind devotion to him. To show her trust to him, in hope that this would bring them closer... and perhaps to show him how unwavering the younger princess was in her determination to refuse the offer to marry him.

"I shall go talk to the princess," Ambrose told Azkadellia, and once again, the old man watched as the princess became crestfallen.

"Do you follow her because you worry about her safety, Ambrose, or because of my mother's offer?" Azkadellia asked, and though her words were accusing, there was no force behind them. She was utterly dejected.

Outside the hidden alcove, Ambrose had come into the sight of the Mystic Man, to step closer to the princess. The hand he placed on her shoulder was stiff, a mere gesture with no obvious meaning behind it.

"I only wish for the younger princess to do the right thing by Her Majesty," Ambrose said. "I cannot allow her to make so damaging a mistake."

Azkadellia reached a hand to her shoulder, placing it over his that rested on her. "But, Ambrose, my _dearest_ Ambr-"

The advisor interrupted her. "Your Highness! You must stop this at once," he said firmly, jerking his hand away from her.

"I can't stop what has already started, Ambrose! It hurts me to see my sister offered to you, and to think that you might... might... _take_ her," Azkadellia said quietly, almost too low for the Mystic Man to hear, but even at the distance he stood, he could see the red blush overcome her face at her admittance.

"_Princess_!" Ambrose exclaimed prudishly, looking incredibly offended. "You must not speak of such things."

"Ambrose, please! My heart –"

"Please, I beg your indulgence, but I won't hear any more," Ambrose said firmly. "I must go find your sister." And without another word or a backwards glance, he left Azkadellia standing in the hallway alone.

The old man frowned, wondering how Ambrose could have been so blind to the way Azkadellia looked at him, and how he could respond so coldly to her now. Even _he_ could see... the Mystic Man rolled his eyes. The advisor needed a good shove in the right direction. He didn't worry about DG, or Cain, or their decision to do something foolish... after all, Cain had a level head on his shoulders, and knew what he was doing, and the princess would be safe at all times.

He watched as Azkadellia ran up the stairs in near tears, and his heart and his head came to a sudden decision.

It was Ambrose and Azkadellia that truly needed his help. Now, what to do about it?

* * *

***

* * *

DG ran about her room in a flurry of activity.

A bag lay open on the bed, and she was having trouble cutting down on her belongings. She needed only clean clothes, and knew she couldn't take every single item she possessed. Her things would be here when she returned... she tried not to think that she might never be able to return.

Her parents would forgive her... she _hoped._

As she placed a pile of clothes into the bag, her mind was unreservedly on Wyatt Cain. She hadn't seen him since he'd left her at the gazebo the night before... well, she'd _seen_ him, from a distance as the Mystic Man took a walk about the grounds, he and Cain alone. She wondered if they'd discussed what had taken place the day before in her mother's office.

Azkadellia had been right about the Eclipse celebrations being forgotten. Somehow, the entire palace knew about the tryst that had taken place in the out of the way parlour. All the staff were buzzing about the marriage that had been proposed between the advisor and the younger princess. To most, it came as a surprise – after all, the entire staff knew of the dewy-eyed looks given to Ambrose by the _elder_ princess, and most all were still amazed at the advisor's blindness to _that_ situation.

But, as good gossip was good gossip, the pining of Azkadellia was forgotten in lieu of the possible forthcoming wedding. All looked forward to the Eclipse celebration, now because they all believed an engagement would be announced. None knew of the ultimatum the younger princess had been given by her mother.

Her thoughts now diverted to the exact reason she was packing her bag, DG shoved the next few items in forcefully. Tears were springing quickly, and her hands were too busy to brush them away; they fell, unhindered, onto her cheeks, spilling down her face and dripping off her chin. Ignoring them, she hurried.

By the time she was finished packing, and she'd changed into a pair of slacks and an airy blue blouse with cap-sleeves, her mind was once again on her Tin Man, but her heart was still heavy. Doubt was swirling deep inside, not doubt for herself, but doubt that he would go through with what they'd planned. What if he forgot? Or worse, what if he got cold feet?

What if she went into the Maze, and waited... and _waited_? What if he never came?

As she slung her bag over her shoulder, and turned the lights of her bedroom off, she was determined that if he had, she would march straight back into the palace and drag him out by the back of his worn, old duster. Damn him, he'd agreed to this and he wasn't going to leave her alone! She wasn't going to marry her mother's advisor, she wasn't going to devote her life to Lurline, and there was no way she was going to mount the gallows to die for love.

Wyatt Cain was stuck with her; he was just going to have to marry her and deal with the consequences. Even if they had to tie his son up and drag him to the Other Side with them!

Sneaking out of the palace took most of her cunning and quite a bit of waiting. She crouched hidden in the kitchen pantry for nearly a half-hour while the elderly cook searched the scrubbed-wood counter-tops for her glasses. Finally, the old woman clicked off the lights for the night, and DG made for the short hallway at the other end of the kitchen that led to her escape.

When she broke out into the night, she was amazed at the stars scattered through the sky. The suns had long since set, but the moons had not risen, so the world was cloaked in a heavy darkness, making the stars stand out brighter, blazing beacons in the sky. She wanted to watch the sky as she walked, but found she couldn't do both, so she focused on plucking her way down the worn path through the marsh grass that led to the Maze.

"_Meet me at the edge of the Maze come nightfall," _Cain's voice repeated to her over and over in her head as she put each foot uncertainly in front of the other. Bringing a lantern would have been out of the question, calling attention to her movements from the palace windows... getting caught was unacceptable.

Finally, the silhouette of the massive, towering Maze came into view. DG slowed her steps, adjusting her bag over her shoulder with a deep breath. Squinting in the darkness, though her eyes had grown somewhat accustomed, she could see no one, and no movement drew her eye. Earlier doubts came swimming to the forefront of her mind as she gingerly took one step, and then another towards the entrance of the Maze, Wyatt nowhere in sight.

_Please, please, don't be still in the palace... please be here, please be waiting for me_, her mind chanted; though she was trying to comfort herself, a strange, cold fear was beginning to settle in her heart, and the closer she got to the gap in the hedges, the larger the rejection simmering inside grew.

Steadying herself, she entered the Maze, a place where she'd spent much of her childhood. The hours she'd spent running through the narrow, green corridors with Azkadellia were innumerable. Together, they knew every bend, twist, turn; she could find every bench, tree, sculpture, and hidden garden within the massive labyrinth. She had no fear of getting lost.

She'd barely stepped into the Maze properly when she was grabbed roughly and jerked against a firm body. A hand descended on her mouth, muffling the scream that escaped her. Her heart pounding, eyes skipping wildly about in the darkness, seeing nothing, but then lips pressed against her ear, and warm breath gently caressed her neck.

"Careful there, Princess."

DG relaxed immediately, letting her pack slide off her arm before bringing her elbow back and jamming it sharply into Wyatt's ribs. He released her with a grunt, and she whirled around on him.

"You _scared_ me!" she exclaimed, but she was laughing, trying to shake off the start he'd given her.

She could hear him smiling, though his face was shadowed. "Sorry," he said, and sounded it.

Despite herself, DG grinned, and moments later, she was throwing herself into his arms. Catching her easily, the Tin Man lifted her off her feet with his embrace, breathing in deeply the scent of her hair, of her skin. Though she couldn't quite place her finger on it, something about the way he held her seemed to have changed... if it was _closer_, she wasn't sure, or if it was _tighter_, she couldn't exactly discern.

But when he turned them, and pressed her into the hedge, it became immediately clear. His mouth descended upon hers, claiming her possessively. She whimpered against him as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance, amazed at the passion behind the simple gesture... his arms still tight about her waist, she tried to return the desire that was swelling so fast inside her, she felt her control beginning to slip. She pressed against him, wanting to feel his sturdiness against all of her, her knees and her chest and her... when her hips rolled forward against him, and she felt the beginnings of his arousal stirring against her belly, she blushed, and he seemed to remember himself.

Letting go of her, he cleared his throat, and ran a quick hand over her hair. "We'd best get movin'," he said low, and damn, if he didn't sound out of breath again, like he was gritting his teeth and trying to gain control over himself. She grinned to herself, a secret smile he couldn't see.

"There are two horses waitin' for us at the other end of the Maze," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "However did you manage that without anyone noticing?" she asked, as she bent and picked up her bag.

Immediately, Wyatt took the bag from her, and pulled the strap over his own shoulder. "Might've had to bribe one of the stable hands," he said vaguely. "He won't be able to lie for us come mornin', though, so we'd better get on the road as soon as possible."

A giddy thrill gave her a sudden shiver. Truly, she was breaking free. As Cain's hand closed around hers, she looked up at him gratefully, though it was lost in the darkness. Giving his hand a tug, she pulled him along, leading the way.

She could find her way to the other end of the Maze in the dark... piece of cake.

* * *

**Author's Note II**: So, my muse is jealous about the time I'm spending with my new plot bunny. Reviews are love! (Oh, and can we say _rating change_ in the next few chapters - there is no way to go but UP!)


	4. Chapter Four: Into The Maze

**Chapter Four: Into The Maze**

It took Jeb and his new friend, Raw, nearly an hour to pick their way around the Maze. The guards that stopped them, after learning the identity of the boy, allowed them a place near the stables to spend the night. The presence of the Viewer helped immensely, as a Viewer was always a trustworthy individual under any circumstance. So, under a tree and with a borrowed lantern from the stable, Jeb shared what food he'd brought with him with Raw, and the two sat in companionable silence.

Jeb was just watching a young stable-boy, no more than twelve annuals, leading a pair of horses around the edge of the Maze. The curiosity of it held Jeb's attention... until the sound of bumbling and babbling came from the royal stable, a few dozen yards away.

"Your Lordship! We weren't expectin'... that is to say, Sir... is there anything –"

"No, no," said a calm and patient voice, one that Jeb recognised well. Standing, he called out to the old man.

"Mystic Man!"

The Mystic Man looked up, and smiled at the sight of the younger Cain. "Ah Jeb, good fellow," he said, walking over with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. When he'd approached, the old man nodded first at the boy, and then at his most unexpected companion. "What brings you to Finaqua, boy? And why aren't you up at the house?"

Jeb shrugged his shoulders; he liked his father's employer immensely, and had always felt comfortable around the Mystic Man. Maybe it was just a part of the old man's charm, but there was never a need for hesitation or discretion, it seemed. "Got myself into a bit of trouble, so I thought I'd head down here to spend the holiday with my father," he said, quite honestly. "I was going to wait until morning to head up to the palace."

"A bit of trouble, eh? More than a bit if you had to leave the city," the Mystic Man said with a knowing smile.

Jeb only shrugged again, the smile on his lips saying more, and perhaps too much. "Out for a walk without your guards? Dad won't be too impressed," Jeb said with mock warning.

"Oh, I doubt I need to worry about your father this evening," the Mystic Man said vaguely. He bounced once on the balls of his feet, and still his hands stayed in his pockets. Jeb couldn't remember a time when he'd seen the old man more unhinged than he was at this moment.

"Are you all right, Sir?"

The Mystic Man cast a look behind his shoulder, to the stable, and then turned again to watch the Viewer for a moment, who offered the old man a soft smile. Sliding his arm around Jeb's shoulders, he steered him away towards the edge of the lamplight, and into the dark beyond.

"It is quite fortuitous that you are here, my boy," the Mystic Man said quickly. "There is a task that must be undertaken this evening." Again, he took a quick glance around; the Viewer was watching the stars, and was most certainly pretending not to listen. "I won't be able to head into the Maze without being missed, but _you, _Jeb, are about to make yourself very useful."

Jeb tried his very best to look serious, and not interested. "What do you mean, Sir?" he prompted.

With yet another nervous glance towards the stable, the old man reached into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket, and extracted a small cosmetics bottle, crystal cut and filled with a purple liquid. "_This_," the Mystic Man whispered low, "is the juice of a little western flower, known by the Ancients as 'love-in-idleness'. Now..." And here the old man paused, as he weighted the small bottle in his hand. "Now," he repeated, "the use of this flower is strictly prohibited by the law of the kingdom."

Jeb's eyebrow perked upward, he couldn't help it. The grin, he fought off. "And why is that, Sir?"

"Well," the Mystic Man said, clearing his throat, "when this juice is laid upon sleeping eyelids, that person will fall madly in love with the next living creature he sees."

Jeb's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped in shock. It wasn't any wonder that use of such a product was heavily regulated, if it made a person fall in love with the next man, woman, or beast it they came into contact with. But then, "If you'll forgive me, Sir," Jeb said slowly, and the Mystic Man gave him a nod, "if its so dangerous, why do you have it now?"

The Mystic Man coughed uncomfortably. "Yes, well... this is where you come in, my boy."

Jeb suddenly didn't like where this was going to go. "Sir," he said carefully, but the old man held up a hand, and Jeb held his tongue.

"Seek within the Maze a beautiful young lady," the Mystic Man said, pointing the Maze Jeb knew towered not too far in the distance. "She's in love with... he's, well... nevermind that." He held up the bottle and removed the stopper, demonstrating to the boy how it worked. "Anoint _his_ eyes," the old man said, recapping the bottle, and handing it gingerly to Jeb, who pocketed it carefully. "Do it so that the next thing he spies is the Lady. Do you understand?"

Jeb nodded slowly. "Seems a bit dishonest," he mumbled.

The Mystic Man shook his head firmly. "No, trust me, Jeb. Think of this as crisis aversion, and tonight affects greatly the path of your family." The look he gave the young boy was serious, and Jeb felt a strange shiver run through him at the old man's penetrating stare.

Jeb touched the small bottle through his pocket, and swallowed hard, before shaking off the sense of foreboding. "So who are the poor fools we're _helping out_?" Jeb asked casually, looking back to Raw, who still sat by the lamp on the ground, staring up at the sky and not so blissfully unaware as he seemed.

"Do you know the Queen's advisor, Ambrose?"

Jeb gave an unsure nod. "I think so," he said, and then he laughed. "And who is the lonely lady?"

The Mystic Man's voice dropped to its lowest octave yet, and the word was very hard for Jeb to hear. "Azkadellia."

Jeb snickered at the joke until he realized that the old man in front of him was deadly serious, more so than Jeb had ever seen him before. "The Princess Royal? Are you _crazy_?" Jeb demanded, wanting to jerk the bottle out of his pocket and hand it back. But he didn't.

"We are fighting for a very noble cause, my boy," the Mystic Man said evenly. "Will you help me lead the resistance?"

Jeb fingered the bottle in his pocket once again, and sighed heavily. He cast a long look at the old man, barely believing what he was about to do. A stiff nod to his co-conspirator, before he turned and motioned for the Viewer to follow him into the Maze, to search out the lovesick princess and the advisor who ignored her.

It was going to be a very, very long night.

* * *

***

* * *

"Your Highness, you should have stayed in the palace!"

Through the darkness, Ambrose headed stubbornly toward the Maze, and he argued with the princess that pursued him. Though he'd done his best to convince her to stay in the palace, she hadn't listened, and had followed him, unfailing in her determination.

"Ambrose, do you really think that _you_ will be able to talk to DG?" Azkadellia asked, and she laughed softly. She had no fear of the night or the dark with the advisor, and knew she was safe. Perhaps it would have been better for her to be frightened, or perhaps if Ambrose were a lesser man who could not protect her... then her feet would have stayed in the palace, fretting and wringing her hands as a proper princess might. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Azkadellia was disobeying what she knew was expected of her, and for the first time in her life, DG _wasn't_ to blame.

Or maybe in the long run, she was. Azkadellia didn't have time to ponder such things, she was too busy running over the uneven path towards the Maze, trying to keep up to Ambrose's long stride.

When finally they reached the Maze, Ambrose paused before entering, hesitant, and Az was able to catch up.

"Ambrose, please," she said, a little out of breath. "Let me go with you. DG isn't going to talk to you, even if you do find her. I think it might be too late."

Ambrose straightened a little, tugging on the bottom of his vest. "If we don't find them on the other end of the Maze, there will be no choice but to notify your mother," he said, and he sounded unhappy at the idea. Acting on his own, instead of going to the Queen immediately, showed something of the friendship he felt towards the younger princess. Azkadellia frowned as she studied him; he stared up at the towering hedge walls before them, and swallowed hard.

"Do you agree with Mother's decision?" Azkadellia asked him, abruptly.

Ambrose looked at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "It is not for me to _disagree_ with Her Majesty," he responded vaguely. "I have devoted my life to fulfilling her wishes."

"Even if she wishes you to forgo love for an arranged marriage?" she demanded.

"She has but to ask, and my only response will ever be 'as you wish'," Ambrose said quietly. "And I _will_ marry the princess if it means saving her from the gallows." He turned to Azkadellia, and placed both hands on her shoulders, so that he might look straight into her eyes. It was the most contact he'd ever given her, and her lip trembled, as his words bit into her and his actions caused her to shake. "I do not... _cannot_... love you," he said firmly. Letting her go, he turned and walked into the Maze.

Without a moments hesitation, Azkadellia followed him. "You're too afraid, you coward," she said scathingly; his ignorance was beginning to anger her. Too caught up in books and models and diagrams, never seeing an inch past the end of his nose, the damn fool!

"Highness, don't you worry about your reputation?" he asked, spinning on her so fast a few stray curls tumbled loose into his eyes. "What the court would say about your being alone in the Maze at night? Or what might happen to you out here?"

Azkadellia snorted. "The Maze would never let anything bad happen to me, Ambrose. And neither would you! You can't deny that."

He said nothing, which only served to anger her more.

"Fine," she said shortly. "Go, try to find DG. See if you don't get lost! And then it will be you calling for me!" She turned on her heel and stalked away, taking the left path. With a sigh, Ambrose watched her go; he fought with himself over whether or not to follow her, but his common sense won out that she was right, the Maze would never let any harm come to a daughter of the House of Gale. Shaking his head, a little unnerved by her new-found forwardness when it came to her feelings for him, he took the right path, and keened his ears for the sounds of others stalking about the narrow corridors. All he had to do was find DG, and convince her of her folly.

Neither the misguided advisor or the angry princess noticed as they walked away, the entrance to the Maze grow over and disappear.

* * *

***

* * *

It took DG over an hour to admit she'd gotten lost, and by the time she'd quietly relented, she'd gotten them so hopelessly mixed up, Cain couldn't even tell which direction they faced.

"Could the magic have anythin' to do with this?" Cain asked gruffly, as he and the princess settled onto a stone bench in a tiny alcove cut into the hedge-wall, creating an arch of leaves over their heads. It was the fourth time they'd discovered the same bench, though each time they seemingly took a different course. The night was quickly clouding over, and he worried he wouldn't have the moons for direction after all.

"Its possible," DG said dejectedly, as she dropped her pack to the ground. "She might not want us to leave."

Why DG insisted on referring to the Maze as if it had a consciousness, and a female one at that, he wasn't sure. Cain shook his head, before pushing himself to standing again. He pulled his revolver from its holster, and checked the chambers, though he knew it to be loaded. These were merely motions to be gone through, and they showed his agitation. The day before, upon entering Finaqua, he'd seen first hand the defensive magic of the Maze, and it wasn't something he was eager to encounter again.

"We might have to wait until morning," DG said sadly. "I don't understand why she wants to keep us here."

"Could be it's got a problem with you runnin' away," Cain said, the look on his face grim as he turned to her. He didn't know much about magic, but that much seemed clear to him; this was a sign that what they had planned was the wrong course of action. He didn't much like the idea of a bunch of shrubbery telling him what choices he made were right or wrong...

"You're sure its the Maze?" he asked.

"Yeah," DG said slowly, sounding tired. "I know the way through here, Cain, and I could do it with my eyes closed. I thought I'd gotten confused, so I tried to backtrack, but no matter what I do, we keep ending up at this bench. Some sort of magic is intervening, its the only explanation."

Cain wished that wasn't true. He'd like an explanation that didn't involve magic he couldn't see or do anything about. Almost forcefully, he replaced his gun in its holster. A new fact was dawning on him, and it caused a strange pain to radiate somewhere deep in his chest... he was going to lose her soon, the young princess who he'd grown to care for, to _love_. He'd left the palace that night prepared to take her to the city and marry her, ignoring whatever consequence they might face as a result of that action.

Now, she stared up at him with sad eyes, the realization in her face a reflection of his own. They'd come up against an obstacle they didn't know how to get around or fight.

"Will you sit with me?" she asked quietly, her voice so small. "You're making me nervous pacing around like that."

Grumbling slightly, Cain sat down on the bench beside her, and immediately her thin arms were circling his shoulders; it was only a natural progression to pull her into his lap, to seek out her warm mouth with his. Her lips bumped against his, and he kissed her, desperation for her pouring out of every movement his mouth made. As his tongue caressed hers, she moaned into him, and he took the sound as breath. Hot tears touched his face, turning his skin cold as he pulled away from her to brush his thumbs over her cheeks.

"Darlin'," he said carefully, noting her shallow breathing, the tremble of her bottom lip. She was soft and pliable in his lap, the curve of her backside pressed against his thigh, and his hands shook with restraint as he placed them heavily on her hips, trying to hold her at a safe distance. He worried about what control he would – or would not – be able to exercise over himself if she moaned like that again.

"Wyatt," she whispered, before peppering his jaw with soft kisses. Her lips were warm and velvety against his neck, but she was impatient, and she yanked his collar down so that she could suck gently on the slope of his shoulder. Growling at her, he lifted his hands to her arms and jerked her away from him.

"You don't know what you're doin', Kid," he said harshly, the first time he'd ever used such a tone with her. A man on edge, he stared hard at her, warning flashing in his eyes.

DG looked up at the Tin Man, as he held her at arms length, despite the fact she was still seated in his lap. She was hurt, though more by his words or his tone, he couldn't tell. But, as she glared at him, her lip stopped its tremble and curled into an unhappy smirk. "And what were you going to do when you married me, then? Kiss me on the forehead and send me off to bed?"

Cain growled. "There's quite a bit of difference between a marriage bed and a park-bench in my mind."

"Well, right now, _my_ mind says 'touch me, damn it!'" she said firmly, never taking her eyes from his. "Are you going to argue with me?" With her eyes, her voice, she taunted him, dared him.

His reply was lost in her mouth as he yanked her towards him. Cain sealed his lips over hers, startling the girl in his arms with the force of it, the crushing press of his desire as his arms slid around her waist, drawing her closer to his chest. Her arms settled about his shoulders as she met him, kiss for kiss, until both were breathless and dragging away from the other, the need for oxygen finally overcoming the need for the other.

"You start this, I might not be able to stop," he told her, and it was honest truth. In earlier days, the palace halls and the reminders of their position kept his every urge firmly in check, his own guilty conscious doing the rest. Now, in the darkness, within the safety of the Maze, with her already curled into his lap, her lips tickling a path down his neck, it was hard to remember why exactly he wasn't supposed to run his hands along the sweet thing crying out for his touch.

"I think we'll both be able to stop when we have to," DG said assuredly, and he nearly laughed at her naivety. She was truly innocent of anything more than a gentle kiss or small brush of the hand. As he dragged a heavy hand over her shoulder, down her chest to cup a perfectly round breast, thumbing her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. She arched into his hand, her bottom slipping off his thigh and rubbing against his groin. Groaning, his hands shot down to her hips once again to hold her completely still.

"Easy," he managed, not wanting to get ahead of himself. It would be quite easy to sate her curiosity without risking her virtue; he hadn't been lying when he told her there was a great difference between the bench on which they sat, and the marriage bed he wanted to carry her to. They both deserved better than what she was suggesting, though there would one day be a time and a place for such adventures.

"Please, Wyatt?" she near-begged, squirming her hips to rub against him again. He grit his teeth as he felt the blood rush downwards, and he kissed her hard, his tongue demanding against hers. She whimpered into him as her hands came up to cup his face, holding herself steady while she kissed him, wanting all restraint gone but afraid of what that might mean if she did. She didn't know how to be patient, and she'd never quite mastered thinking-first. Her body and brain screamed for him, and she threw herself into the fray, headlong.

He felt the shift in her, and growled low at the trouble it would cause him. Before she got too carried away, and before she carried _him_ too far away, he gripped the princess firmly by the hips and turned her in his lap, breaking their kiss as he pressed her back into his chest. Leaning against the hedge-wall, he supported their weight, letting her relax against him as he gently placed two hands on her thighs, and drew her legs apart. She complied to his every movement, and hooked her legs on the outsides of his knees.

"Good girl," he mumbled, as he ran his hands up her stomach, stopping to palm both breasts. She was soft, yet there was nothing delicate about her tiny frame. She was strength despite size, and as she writhed in his lap, losing herself quickly in sensation as he explored her body, he realized she was a force to be reckoned with. Glad he had her in such a helpless position, he allowed his hands to run freely over her, covering her arms, shoulders, chest, and belly. DG reached one arm back to support herself, stretching her fingers out over the back of his head, stroking him lightly. It had been a long time since Cain had felt the malleable beauty of a woman under his hands, and he spent a long time memorizing the feel of the princess he held; when his fingers played with the edge of her shirt, he looked to her for approval first.

"This all right?" he asked her, as he slipped a finger underneath the fabric to sweep a finger across the nakedness of her abdomen. She pressed back into the hardness growing against her bottom, nodding before letting her head fall back on his shoulder, her nails digging slightly into his scalp. When his hands dove beneath her shirt, his calloused fingers running across the flesh of her belly, the muscles beneath rippled in response, and DG's hips bucked lightly.

Cain squeezed her soft skin; splaying a hand over her belly to keep her flat against him, his other hand glided upwards to find her small breasts clothed in a lacy undergarment. Pressing a heated kiss to her neck, he dragged the lacy fabric down and gripped her breast, the flesh hot to the touch beneath the pads of his fingers. DG arched again, nearly lifting off his lap to press more firmly into his hand. She was moaning, small sounds that could have been words, might possibly have been his name. Smirking, he kissed her sweaty neck again, nuzzling her with his nose as he slipped the hand on her stomach down lower, over the fabric of her slacks to brush over her heated center.

At the contact, DG cried out loud. The whimper of arousal was too much for his ears, and his erection flared beneath her; she ground her hips unconsciously against his, the feel of his hardness pressed into the cleft of her bottom satisfying and yet such a terrible tease. Her hand shot down to cover his, though she was unsure if she wanted to guide his movements or bat his hand away.

"Wyatt," she mumbled, turning her head to face him, trying to focus her eyes onto his. The deep blue of his stare bit into her briefly before he claimed her mouth, his hand leaving her breast to hold her head in place against his, lips never breaking contact in a needy kiss that stole her breath. He ran a finger against her heat again, pressing more firmly, the friction of the fabric between them new and strange. Soon, he moved a second finger over her, working them in a steady rhythm as she squirmed in his lap, legs spread wide and her body completely at his mercy. The hand that had tried to deter his ministrations now gripped lightly at his wrist as he stroked her.

The kiss finally broke when her head fell back into the cradle of his hand as she moaned; he jerked her mouth to his immediately to swallow the sounds she made; she was rubbing against him in all the right ways, and it took all the control that remained in him to stop himself from taking her further than the stimulation he gave her. When her back arched violently, tellingly, he released her head to wrap a firm arm about her hips, circling his fingers again and again between her legs until her head fell back against his shoulder and a shuddering climax tore through her. She raised her wrist to her mouth, biting into her own flesh to stop the sounds of pleasure from pouring out into the night. Slowing his petting but not ceasing, he helped her coast down out of her orgasm, as she went limp in his arms, and her warm lips returned to his neck to kiss his skin softly.

"Think you'll be able to stop now?" he asked her quietly.

She gave a quiet moan and a small, dopey smile. She blinked at him, her eyes focusing after most of the waves of pleasure had died down, and she seemed to consider him in a new way. Quirking her head to the side, she asked, "You could've been doing that to me this _whole_ time?" She looked upset that he hadn't let her in on this secret a little sooner.

Despite himself, Cain laughed, and kissed her hard. When he pulled back, he helped her off his lap, and touched her face lightly once, fingers brushing carefully along her jaw. Her cheeks were flushed pink with his attention, and the strange swelling in his heart seemed to grow – no, there would be no letting this girl get away from him, princess or not. "Lay your head down and try to sleep," he said quietly.

"What about you?" she asked innocently, and her fingertips reached out to brush him through his pants. Clearing his throat, he grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand away.

"Nevermind about that," he said gruffly. She grinned at him. "We'll find out which way to head once the moons rise. No point in wanderin' around until then."

DG looked up at the cloudy sky. "I don't know if that will help," she offered.

Cain sighed heavily. "Its the best we've got for now. Just try to get some shut-eye, I'll wake you in a few hours."

She watched him as he left her on the bench; it was true, she could sleep. She felt like she was coming out of a strange, drug-induced haze. What he'd done to her... oh, she could only imagine the things they could do together, what he would teach her... "Wyatt, will you lie down with me?" The bench was surely big enough...

But Cain only shook his head at her. He took off his duster and handed it to her, so that she could roll it up and use it for a pillow. Settling herself down, she shot him a disappointed look, before turning her head towards the hedge and closing her eyes. He watched her for a few minutes, wishing that he _could_ lay down next to her. Gritting his teeth, he found a place on the ground, sitting with his back to the hedge, putting some distance between them so he might not hear the breathy sighs of her sleep that would shoot straight through him and rattle his barely-clinging control.

Grumbling to himself, he stretched his legs out, placed his hat on the ground beside him, and tried to ignore the problem having the princess in his lap had created. Trying to formulate how they would escape the Maze, Wyatt Cain closed his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hopefully everyone is still hanging in there! I'm sure you noticed our rating change... Chaos ensues in five, four, three... (leave me one!)


	5. Chapter Five: Case of Mistaken Identity

**Chapter Five: A Case of Mistaken Identity**

Jeb was growing discouraged.

Thirty minutes had passed since he'd entered the Maze with Raw, and though the voices of others in the Maze had carried over to them for corridors unreachable without a map, they had _seen_ no one. The moons had yet to rise, and from the clouds rolling in, Jeb wasn't sure if the light would make much difference. During celebrations that took place in the palace, the way through the Maze would be lit with tiny fairy-lights, leading the way for anyone who was feeling adventurous.

No lights brightened the path now, however, and he'd learned quickly not to rely on the Viewer's sense of direction. After all the annuals growing up spent hunting and tracking with his father, nothing came in useful now. He was very easily turning himself around, and the labyrinth of identical corridors wasn't helping any.

If he hadn't known better, Jeb would have thought the Maze was messing with him.

Soon, they turned a left and came to a corridor he was certain they'd already come down at least once already, but it couldn't be. He was being very careful about tracking his lefts, and after all, it was a _maze.._. just an elaborate garden, nothing more. Aside from the occasional fountain, trellis, or marble statue, the hedge walls were remarkably similar. No wonder this place was considered Finaqua's first defence!

"Raw sense something," his companion spoke up quite suddenly, and Jeb's head jerked to look over his shoulder. But, he didn't need the Viewer's heartsight to _hear_ the words drifting over to them from a displaced location.

"_There's quite a bit of difference between a marriage bed and a park-bench in my mind,"_ said a stoic, masculine voice that Jeb recognised all too well – he thought his heart might actually stop in his chest; this definitely was _not_ a place he wanted to be.

This instinct turned into a sudden flight response when he heard a haughtily whispered reply. _"Well, right now, _my_ mind is saying 'touch me, damn it!' Are you going to argue with me?"_

With a shudder that coursed from his spine straight to his fingertips, Jeb whirled around and nearly ran straight into Raw. "Wrong way, turn around," he hissed, and grabbed the Viewer roughly by the shoulders to turn him around and give him a small shove. Together, they crept quietly back the way they had come, until they came to a four-way intersection that had already given them more than enough grief.

Certain they were a safe distance away, and sure that the only reason his father hadn't high-tailed it after them with his revolver cocked was because the man was too distracted to have heard them at all, he took a minute to lean against the hedge to catch his breath. As Jeb keened his ears, he heard nothing, and his heart seemed to start a slow, unsteady rhythm once again.

"Something frightens Boy," Raw observed.

Jeb nearly snorted with a sudden burst of laughter. _No shit,_ he thought. "There are _way_ too many people in this Maze tonight. This is going to be a lot tougher than I thought," he muttered, mostly to himself. At first, he couldn't imagine _why_ his father and the princess would be out in the Maze... but then it dawned on him, rather quickly, like a bucket of ice water, that the two lovers had sneaked out of the palace for a clandestine moment together. The thought of it was enough to make his nerves jangle. He'd known about his father's relationship with Princess DG, and had gotten used to the idea and quickly forgotten about it... until that moment.

"Okay," he said, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He let out a long sigh... "Okay," he repeated. He didn't know how he was going to do this, maneuver around the Maze with his father – _Gods, why does this stuff always happen to me?_ he wondered miserably, as he put a hand over his eyes. They needed to find Ambrose and Azkadellia, and finish their task. The quicker the little glass-cut bottle was back in the Mystic Man's possession, the quicker Jeb could get back to pretending this evening hadn't taken place – and that he hadn't heard Wyatt Cain being propositioned by a very bossy princess...

"Raw thinks we might find luck this way," the Viewer said, gesturing vaguely to the passageway to his right.

Jeb shrugged his shoulders. Any path they took would lead them _away_ from the lovers, and that was exactly what he wanted – that, and to stop thinking about his father as a 'lover'. Taking the lead, he headed in the direction Raw had suggested... and sure enough, it wasn't long before he was hearing another voice he recognised... that of the Princess Azkadellia, who sounded so unbelievably dejected, he had an insane urge to kick the person who'd made her feel that way.

"_Why are you following me?"_

"_Believe me, Your Highness, I am not following you. I would almost think that you were following me." _It could only be the voice of the advisor, Ambrose. To Jeb, he didn't sound half bad – though he did seem like there was something unpleasant lodged up his backside. And he'd thought his father was in need of a little relaxation... this guy needed to take a vacation from his brain.

Azkadellia's voice changed to indignation, and it suited her less than misery. _"I wouldn't dream of following you. I only stopped to rest a moment. I am out of breath in this chase. I can't find them anywhere."_

"_Then, please, Your Highness. Wait here, and I alone will go."_

The sound of retreating footsteps cut into the night as the voices abruptly stopped. The princess made a sound, as if she might call out after the advisor. Jeb made to duck into a different passage, but the footsteps didn't seem to be coming anywhere near them. After another moment, a new sound could be heard in the stillness of the night, and it near broke his heart. Azkadellia began to cry.

He turned to Raw, to see the Viewer shaking his head sadly, his bottom lip trembling with the spikes of emotion radiating from the other side of the hedge. Jeb shook his head, and motioned for Raw to follow him. He didn't want to intrude on the princess's misery, and he definitely didn't want Raw to start whimpering.

"We've gotta find Ambrose," Jeb said after they'd moved a safe distance away from the princess. "He's – he's out of Central City, so Gods only know, he's as lost in here as we are." _If not more...this could go so very wrong,_ he warned himself. Giving his brain a rattle, he tried to think. Ambrose would most likely try to double-back to the princess. Azkadellia had said _"I can't find them anywhere..." _Jeb could now only safely assume she had meant her sister and his father. A blush rose to his cheeks, rethinking what he'd overheard...

This could go so_ very _wrong.

Jeb didn't – _did not_ – want to think about what his father would do if he found his son wandering the royal labyrinth at night, displaced from where he was supposed to be in Central City by a few hundred spans. Take into account that he was carrying in his pocket a highly contraband, illegal potion, and Jeb was quite sure he should have stayed in Central and faced the brothers of the girl he'd met. The odds of survival were probably higher.

Nearly an hour later – an hour spent wandering in circles, passing vaguely similar statues, hearing voices muttering from a corridor or two over – Jeb and Raw finally had some luck.

The clouds had rolled in completely, and it was hopelessly dark. Illumination shimmered from behind the cloud cover, two glowing orbs that cast no significant light, but yellowish-gray, the moons called out to Jeb the direction in which he now faced, and he began to get his bearings. Moving confidently through the corridors, his ears peeled for the sounds of footsteps or voices – though now, things seemed to be _too _eerily quiet – Jeb brought them around a corner – and stopped, abruptly.

Raw slammed into his back, and with a muffled _'Oof,'_ he grabbed Jeb by the shoulders, and peered around the boy's body to see what had stopped the sudden cessation of forward momentum.

Roughly ten feet ahead, the sleeping figure of a man could be easily made out – sitting on the ground, his back up against the hedge wall, shrouded in darkness, it was quite amazing that the pair could see him at all. But the legs spread out, crossed at the ankle as the man reclined, probably sleeping in the most comfortable position to be found, the man was quite plainly there, and obviously sleeping.

Jeb's heart gave a giant leap. _Thank Gods!_ his brain exclaimed, _Now we can get out of this maze and back to the stable. As long as we don't run into Father on the way out..._

Jeb began to back up, whirling around to give Raw a shove when he felt the Viewer at his back. Backtracking, they rounded a corner to relative safety, and with a guilty sigh, and an even guiltier conscience, Jeb extracted the little glass cosmetics bottle from his pocket and showed it to Raw.

"Listen," he said slowly. "I've got to ask you a favor."

"Raw owes Boy a favor," Raw replied.

With an aggravated exhale, Jeb fingered the bottle, and continued as if Raw hadn't spoken. "This is going to require finesse," he said, "and that's definitely something that you've got over me. You can move quieter than I can, and quicker than I can should that guy wake up."

Raw waited patiently, knowing already what the boy was going to ask.

"Just a drop, on each of his eyelids," Jeb said. "That's all it will take, I think."

"Dishonest," Raw told him.

"Yeah, I know its dishonest, but apparently, we're saving the kingdom a whole helluva lot of trouble," Jeb said with a shrug of his shoulders. "If you sneak over there and stick a drop of this stuff on that advisor's eyes," and here he paused for a moment, and heaved another mighty sigh.

_How did I get talked into this mess?_ he wondered absently, as he also contemplated how such a tiny bottle could feel so heavy in his hands.

Continuing, he said, "I'm going to go get the princess to head over this way," he said. "All Ambrose has to do is set eyes on her once, and we'll be free and clear, and we can get out of this creepy Maze."

Raw gave a small nod, indicating he thought that leaving the Maze was a very good idea. Gingerly taking the bottle from Jeb, he held it in his gloved palm, feeling the weight of it, and wondering why humans felt the need to meddle in things that nature could take care of easily in all her wisdom and glory. Giving the boy an unhappy look, Raw tightened his hold on the little bottle, and gave a jerk of his chin, affirming to Jeb that he understood the plan.

Jeb clapped Raw on the shoulder. "Excellent," he said, and came close to cracking a smile. "I'm gonna go round us up a princess." And he turned, and disappeared, leaving Raw standing alone in the hedge corridor, holding a bottle of potion that felt strangely sacrilegious in his hands. His shoulders falling, Raw stalked back the way they'd come, towards the pair of legs he could see outlined in the hazy shadows in front of him.

The closer he got, the stronger the emotions clouding the air hit him. _Frustration... lust... annoyance... longing..._ all slammed into him in rapid succession, and Raw fought to keep a straight face, to stop any one or the other from influencing him too much. He bit his tongue to keep down a growl as a sudden wave of discontent washed over him.

His hands were shaking as he approached the body that reclined sleeping in the passageway. Raw moved smoothly, without sound, as he stepped over a tan-trouser clad leg, and crouched down beside the pale-haired man whose head was pillowed comfortably in the hedge. The man's clothes definitely had a city air about them, and the irritation radiating off the man's skin made Raw feel a little better about what he was doing; the princess would be better off with this man's love, rather than his disdain...

Clutching the bottle, Raw took a deep breath – and then noticed something peculiar on the air... a softer scent, sweeter. In the very breeze about him, Raw could taste innocence. Turning, still hunkered down beside the sleeping Central City man, he saw a bench... and atop that bench, curled up on her side, and facing away from the man who was obviously trying to keep his distance, was a sleeping girl – relief washed over him... the boy wouldn't have to chase down the princess, as she was already there!

The emotion that seeped from the gentleman now made more sense. Shaking his head, Raw turned back to his victim, and carefully took the stopper out of the bottle. His eyesight a little better than the human boy's, he watched curiously as a thick droplet of purple potion stuck to the sharp tip of the diamond-shaped stopper.

Deftly, and with silent grace, Raw placed a drop of potion on each of the man's closed eyelids. It only took a moment, barely enough time for a breath, before the purple concoction dried clear upon the skin, leaving no trace. Raw stood, screwing the stopper back into the mouth of the bottle as he went. With one more sad glance cast towards the sleeping girl, alone on her bench a dozen or so paces away, Raw sneaked away quietly, as if he'd never been.

* * *

***

* * *

Azkadellia hadn't ever quite had a night like this one in her life.

She'd given up on waiting for Ambrose – sometimes the damn, brainy fool couldn't see an inch past the end of his nose. After the second – or was it the third? – time they'd happened across each other while wandering their separate paths in the Maze, she began to wonder if the Maze wasn't working some sort of defensive magic to bring them back together again and again.

She'd tried to explain it to him. But, with Ambrose being the distracted individual that he could sometimes be, he wouldn't stop to listen to her, and only took her trying to tell him anything as nonsense, or worse, as her trying to create an excuse to grab his attention for flighty, frivolous – and no doubt _scandalous –_ reasons.

She'd given up looking for her sister and the Tin Man. If the Maze was turning around one Gale daughter, it would certainly be doing the same to DG. Azkadellia lost her fear of her sister running off to get married... it was plainly obvious that the Maze wasn't letting anyone get _anywhere_. And so, frustrated with sitting in one spot, and a little put off by the darkness, Azkadellia went in search of Ambrose... or her sister. _Someone, _so that she wouldn't be alone.

When she stumbled across a familiar fountain, she decided to test a theory. Straightening her shoulders, and walking completely upright with determined steps, Azkadellia traced her way back to the entrance of the Maze. Hundreds of hours spent with her sister, playing games of hide-and-seek throughout the hedge corridors, among the topiaries and garden benches, came into play then... she could do this with eyes shut.

Turning the final corner, to what would have brought her to the entrance of the Maze, she wasn't surprised to find she'd come to a dead-end. She knew she'd gone the right way, there was absolutely no doubt. Something was going on, the defensive magic of the royal labyrinth had been tripped; or at least, that was one of only several likely explanations.

Now, if only she could find Ambrose and prove to him that his science and logical thinking wasn't about to overcome this ancient magic, she and he could sit down together, wait and rest, until morning – when they were sure to be noticed missing.

The smart thing to do would have been to sit down exactly where she stood, to wait.

The smart thing... the smart thing was informing _someone_ of her sister's plans of flight. But she didn't feel smart anymore, and she didn't feel like she had a handle on the situation – in fact, some deeper connection with the magic of Finaqua was telling her that something very great was taking place.

Azkadellia sighed, looking around a little helplessly, as there was nothing to be done.

This was all DG's fault, really...

_Your adventures have a way of getting me into trouble... _

Damn it!

"All right," she said, trying to regain her senses; there was no use wallowing over her impulsive sister whom Fate seemed to favor... or not. In all truthfulness, the Maze seemed to have put a sudden and complete stop to DG's plans of elopement; unless, of course, the Maze hadn't closed off until DG and Wyatt Cain had reached the safety and freedom of the other side. Muttering to herself, in a habit that was strangely comfortable, Azkadellia tried find a place to sit, and wait it out.

Thankfully, as far as her memory served her, the Maze hadn't done much rearranging of its corridors, and she found easily her favorite bench, set into a tiny alcove cut into the hedge-wall, so that an arch was created above. But when she approached, she startled, seeing a sleeping form curled up on the stone bench, under the safety of the arch.

Azkadellia knelt down, recognizing her sister immediately. DG was fast asleep, her dark, messy curls nearly obstructing her pale face from view, the arm slung over her head doing the rest. With her eyelids closed, hiding the mischievous blue eyes that were never dull, always sparked with life, DG seemed almost innocent. Still and quiet, Az's favorite way to find her sister.

Deeply, she sighed, before reaching out to touch her little sister's hair. DG stirred.

Az hopped up immediately, and turned to continue the way she'd been going... her favorite bench was occupied, and there were a hundred others scattering the Maze. All she had to do was find one of them... maybe she would take a lesson from her sister, and try to get some rest. She wasn't going to be getting out of here any time soon.

Her thoughts, however, were cut short when she stumbled on something that lay across the path. Her knees hit the hard-packed dirt with a jolt of pain, and she scraped the heels of her hands when she landed on them. Grumbling now, and wondering when she'd ever be allowed a little dignity and grace, Azkadellia moved from her hands and knees onto her bottom, and tried to see what had tripped her.

It was the Tin Man, Wyatt Cain; the toe of her boot digging into his leg as she'd fallen right over him had woken him up with a growl, and he was jumping to his feet and unsheathing his revolver as he went.

"Its all right!" Azkadellia exclaimed worriedly as the sound of the gun cocking echoed louder than anything she'd heard that night; her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could swear it hurt. "Please, Mister Cain!" Even in her fear, Azkadellia was disgusted with herself; instead of standing with regal bearing, giving an order, she was trying to work up the courage to climb to her feet, cowering like a child.

Icy blue eyes, clearing the haze of sleep, sliced through the air toward her, and she shivered as his eyes laid upon her.

"Princess?"

"Yes," she said, and though her lip shook, she knew any danger had passed, and that she was safe. Wyatt Cain safeguarded the Mystic Man with his life, and (though she never liked to think of such things) would probably do the same for her. Feeling a little better, she took his hand when he offered it, and allowed him to haul her to her feet in one swift, strong move. It caught her off-guard, and it took her a moment to find her balance – and a strong arm encircled her waist to steady her.

Azkadellia blushed to find herself pulled flush against the Tin Man. At a momentary loss for words, she braced a hand against his chest. "Um, thanks," she murmured when she remembered her manners – not that her companion seemed to care much about propriety at the moment.

"Anything for your sweet sake, Highness," came his husky reply.

Azkadellia's lips parted slightly in confusion. She looked up into the blue eyes that bore down on her, paler than her sister's, cool and alert, with a strange vibrancy that she never could have imagined in the stoic, upright man before her; these eyes that hid beneath the brim of his hat, was this the look that her sister saw daily, when she bravely dared to peek?

"I'm, um," Azkadellia faltered, eyeing Cain suspiciously, "looking for Master Ambrose, who is looking for _you_."

Cain didn't seem all that disturbed that the advisor was seeking him out, in the middle of the night, when he was supposed to be trying to escape the lands and Maze of Finaqua. "You don't need to be lookin' for Ambrose," he said assuredly, as he took a long minute to look around them, as the moons broke out from the cloud cover to shine down on his pale hair. She could see his face now, completely and properly, and decided that she didn't quite like the way he was looking down at her, or the fact that he didn't seem to care to turn around to check on her sister, sleeping not more than twenty paces away. "I've got some words for _Ambrose_ as it is, so let him find us."

"Don't say things like that," Azkadellia admonished, as she tried for the first time to break away from his embrace. Cain, however, held tight, his arm securely pinning her body to his. Her blush renewed when he lowered his face to hers, letting his stubbled cheek run across hers, his lips tracing a path to her temple. She squirmed a bit; something wasn't right. "DG," she said, quite pointedly, angry that the man needed to be reminded. "Its not Ambrose's fault that he was chosen by my mother, so what does it matter?"

"It matters," Cain said, through clenched teeth.

Azkadellia's eyebrows knit together. "DG loves _you_, Mister Cain, and not Ambrose." She felt like an incredible hypocrite, encouraging the forbidden love to Cain's face, when she'd ratted him out to the advisor, and gotten _herself_ into this entire mess. Cain and DG were on their own... but somehow, this felt like _her_ fault. "You should be happy with DG's love."

Cain heaved a sad sigh, and the eyes that caught hers swam with depths of emotion that would have taken her annuals to fathom. The sheer force of it, the raw and completely truthful sentiment, hit her hard, like a sack of yellow bricks slammed into her chest.

"DG's just a kid," he said slowly, and her eyebrows shot upwards at the words. Where was the man she'd seen hovering protectively over her sister... hadn't that been yesterday? Had it happened at _all_? "I can't deny that I cared about her, but I doubt... no, _never_," he said adamantly. Azkadellia let her head fall to the side, studying the hard lines of his face, the angle of his jaw, the straight of his nose, and his blue, blue eyes.

Azkadellia shook her head furiously, her hair hanging down her back brushing the forearm wrapped around her. She'd had quite enough, and she was beginning to feel she'd made a very, _very _terrible mistake. "_Why_ are you telling me this?" she demanded, giving him a hard shove on the chest.

Cain only smirked at her, blue eyes twinkling the way DG's would sometimes, the light of an idea planting in the mind. Cocking an eyebrow, his smirk spread into a smile when she stopped struggling against him. Without words – for what words were there, really? – he brought his free hand up to entangle in the thick dark hair at the back of her neck, holding her head in place so that she couldn't look away.

Now, Azkadellia was not a complete innocent – nor was she a fool. She sensed it moments before it happened, though nothing could have prepared her for the wave of uncertainty that gently swept over her as Cain's mouth found hers, his lips pressing against hers in a crushing kiss. Quite effectively stealing the breath from her lungs, somehow the hands that she'd braced against his chest slipped up to his shoulders, around his neck.

_What are you doing? What are you _doing_? This is wrong! This is... _

When his tongue gently coaxed at her lips, she allowed him into her mouth, the wet heat of him wiping all thought from her head, all thoughts of right and wrong. His body was firm and solid against hers, more security than she was sure she'd felt when surrounded by a protection detail of five men. The hand heavy on her massaged the back of her neck, as she tilted her head beneath him, returning his kiss now, unsure of what she was doing, knowing her sister was mere feet away, but not caring... why didn't she care, what was wrong with her? And... what was wrong with _him_?

That thought had its subconsciously intended effect. Knowing she could never overcome him physically, she used the only tool at her disposal; as he was distracted, tangling his mouth with hers – for _Great Gale, is he excellent at this,_ her mind screamed – Azkadellia concentrated on her Light, and summoned enough power to shove Wyatt Cain five feet away.

She was shaking her head, utterly confused, stuttering for a place to start. "Wh... no, I... you... _Why_?" she demanded.

Cain shrugged his shoulders, not looking in the slightest sheepish or sorry. "Who wouldn't change a raven for a dove?"

Azkadellia's eyes widened, and she forced herself to look away from him, away from the broad shoulders that blocked the path, blocked the sight of her sister standing behind him. Wouldn't he turn around, didn't he even remember she was _right there_?

"You're mocking me," she said sadly, shaking her head. It wasn't enough that Ambrose didn't want her, wouldn't even listen to her. What in Ozma's name was Cain doing? It made no sense, and it made her recall the feeling she'd gotten when she'd turned the corner to see the entrance of the Maze gone. Trapped, and... at the mercy of something greater than herself. "I'm going to find Ambrose," she told him firmly, knowing that another feeble attempt at convincing the advisor they were in trouble would go much better than trying to get sense or reason out of what was happening now. To put some distance between herself and Cain... not to mention the epic fight that would take place between the sisters if DG awoke any time soon.

She turned on her heel and walked away.

After she'd gone, Cain took a quick moment to turn around, and watch the sleeping princess on the bench. A part of him, somewhere inside, knew that leaving the girl unattended and alone was the wrong thing to do, but compulsion inside was driving him to chase after Azkadellia. The sight of DG frustrated him, and he turned away in annoyance; she'd be fine.

He felt a growing sense of guilt, like poison spreading into his system from a wound. He was doing wrong no matter what he did, leaving DG or letting Azkadellia go. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to make his decision. Grabbing his hat from where he'd left it on the ground, he placed it on his head, angling the brim down over his eyes. Casting one quick look back towards the princess who slept on the bench, he shook his head at the thought of her pliable in his lap not hours before... whatever that spell over him had been, it was over now, and he was seeing clearly.

Without another backwards glance, Cain turned and went after Az.

* * *

***

* * *

DG awoke with a start, shivering with the chill of the night, and quaking with fear at the nightmare that had scared her out of her slumber.

"Wyatt?" she called out.

Silence.

DG sat up on the bench, her head leaving the duster she'd rolled up under her head... his coat. Cold, she was cold... so, she picked up the huge, heavy coat and hung it over her shoulders, as she tried to banish her nightmare from her mind. Her nerves were still firing, and she felt a wave of nausea settling over her. She vaguely recalled something of a snake, slithering, cold and smooth, up her naked body... why had she been naked?

And where had the snake come from? Resting on her chest, sinking its sharp fangs into her breast, small, twin pinpricks in her flesh, belying the danger the bite presented. Poison, she was going to die! She had looked around, frightened, only to see Wyatt, watching her with a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth... And then... she'd awoken, wanting Cain desperately, to alleviate the fear she felt.

"Wyatt," she said, her voice a little steadier.

Nothing.

DG waited until she was sure she could stand on her own two legs, her plan already formulated in her head. Obviously, Wyatt had gone looking for something... sitting still didn't occur to her for one moment. Acting impulsively, as she always did, DG hopped off the bench with the duster still around her shoulders, and took off down the path, in search of her Tin Man, and the assurance his presence would bring.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the length of time since the last update. Real life, ya know? Plus, the B.D.E., as well! Now, if anyone is curious about where this is going, just try to think of it as... the "Tin Man" treatment... a bold reimagining! I have lots of suprises in store... I'm getting excited just thinking about it! Aren't you?


End file.
